


Give Me a Sweet Kiss

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Saturday Night Live RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Brief Reference to Colin/ScarJo, Coming In Pants, Flirting, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers to Boyfriends, Frottage, Get together fic, M/M, Pining, References to Public Sex, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 02:25:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18651019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: Colin and Che's progression from friends to lovers tomore.





	Give Me a Sweet Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> so there's that interview, I think it's a Jimmy Fallon one, where he says to Colin and Che, "you two really like putting each other in uncomfortable situations," and, well. This happened. 
> 
> big thanks to hannah for beta'ing!

_“You have a lot of fun putting each other in uncomfortable situations.”_

_Oh_ , Colin thinks as he very pointedly doesn’t look at Che’s shit-eating grin. _You have no idea._

 

And, okay. It’s not like Colin is innocent in the whole putting-each other-in-uncomfortable-situations scenario. He and Che are just about even. They both take pretty much any opportunity they can spare to rile the other up. It’s great, it’s fun. Sometimes it’s just guys-being-dudes kind of fun and sometimes...Sometimes it’s _not_ that.

Sometimes it’s a lot more than that. Stuff like a hand resting warm and too-high on a thigh; stuff like playing light footsie during a meeting with Lorne; stuff like getting blackout drunk in Colin’s living room and having a round of gay chicken.

Y’know, normal shit.

 

Colin shakes his head to clear his thoughts. The interview is long since over, but things haven’t really changed. He and Scarlett have come and gone, and now it’s just Him and Che, except it’s not _really_ Him and Che. Because they still do all the dumb shit they did before and sometimes, when enough alcohol is buzzing in their veins, they kiss.

But that’s it.

And they _definitely_ don’t talk about anything.

Colin may or may not be going crazy.

“You look like you could murder a man. What’s got my sweet flaky croissant in a twist?” Leslie asks as she sets a coffee on Colin’s desk and sits herself on the edge of said desk.

Colin reaches for the coffee first and downs half of it and then decides _fuck it_. “I think Che wants to fuck me.” Then, after a moment’s consideration, he adds, “I want to fuck Che.”

Leslie nods along. “Right, both of those things have been super obvious for years. Is this news to you?”

“Little bit,” Colin admits as he slurps at his coffee again. “We just haven’t really talked about it.”

“Of course you haven’t,” Leslie sighs. “You need to. We’re sick of this.”

“We?” Colin asks.

Leslie gestures outside of Colin’s office, as if to generally encompass all of their coworkers. “Yeah,” Leslie says. “We.”

Colin lets his head fall forward onto his desk with a dull thunk.

Later that day, Che slips his hand into the back pocket of Colin’s jeans at the exact moment Colin tries to say, “Afternoon Lorne!” and the result is his voice cracking like puberty hit him in the nuts for a second time.

 

So no, they don’t talk about it. That’s the responsible thing to do and neither Colin nor Che are what you could call ‘responsible.’ They do, however, escalate it. Rapidly.

“You sure?” Che groans into his mouth. His hands are hot and heavy on Colin’s ass, over his slacks.

“Positive,” Colin gasps back. “Can’t believe you played footsie with me the whole segment.”

“Done it before,” Che says. He’s smirking.

Colin pulls back enough to glare, though it’s an admittedly weak expression. He’s too turned on to be properly angry. “Not like that,” he murmurs, because it’s true.

Footsie is nothing new to the two of them, least of all during Weekend Update. But tonight had been different—Che had been bolder, more forward, so much so that Colin had to stay in his seat a few extra minutes for his erection to soften before he could stand. The only saving grace was that Che had to do the exact same thing; misery loves company, at least.

So now they’re here, on the couch in Che’s office, with Colin’s knees straddling his hips and their bodies moving inelegantly together. Every time Colin pushes down he can feel the hot, hard heat of Che’s dick pressing against his ass and it makes him crave more.

“Fuck,” Che breathes. “Not gonna last.” He punctuates his admission with a thrust up, rutting against Colin’s ass like he could get any closer.

Colin grinds back against him and lets the shocks of pleasure, the phantom sensation of getting fucked, push him closer to his own brink. He nods frantically, moans softly, “Me neither.”

Che growls and unseals one hand from Colin’s hip to press against the bulge at the front of his slacks instead. “Do it,” he commands gently. He leans in and presses a burning kiss to Colin’s neck. Licking at the sweat slick skin, he says, “Wanna see.”

Colin’s helpless to resist. He grinds down against Che’s cock and maybe, possibly, potentially whimpers something about wanting the other man inside him before he’s coming inside his slacks like a teenager. His body jerks and jolts as his orgasm races through him like a freight train, ending with him slumping against Che and gasping for air.

“Fuck, Jost,” Che moans. His hands find their home cupping Colin’s ass again and then he’s off to the races, thrusting hard and fast despite the layers of clothing separating them.

Colin turns his head enough to mouth at Che’s neck. “Do it,” he commands in a soft mirror of Che. “Wanna feel,” he says, because he couldn’t open his eyes if his life depended on it.

Che’s hands flex and his hips still suddenly, pressed flush to Colin’s ass. He groans lowly as he comes, a hot pulse that Colin can just barely feel.

Che melts into the couch as he comes down; his hands move, almost regretfully, from Colin’s ass to curl around his back instead. Che tucks his grin against Colin’s cheek.

“Oh god, you’re a cuddler,” Colin says with the most disgust he can muster—which is precisely none.

Che snorts. “You’re stuck with it now, Jost.”

Colin hides his own grin by biting his lip. “God help me.”

Che just shakes his head.

 

 

From there, it’s meeting in Colin’s office before rehearsals to give each other quickie handjobs. Or, it’s stumbling back to Che’s apartment together following an after-party, where Colin slams Che against his front door and whines as they rut together like horny teenagers. Or, it’s slipping into hall closets at work to frantically make out, Colin coming as he rides Che’s thigh. It’s getting handsy in the backs of Ubers and it’s heavy, hot looks just before they take the stage for Weekend Update. It’s kiss-swollen lips and Colin’s dick feeling like it’s going to chafe but him never wanting to stop touching or tasting Che.

So yeah. It escalates from pranks and shenanigans—although those are still pretty common, too—and they still don’t talk about it. They don’t talk about it but that’s not a bad thing. It’s just A Thing. Really, it’s more like _a thing_. Not _A Thing._ It’s a casual thing. Chill. Totally cool.

They’re just two dudes who bang occasionally (frequently) and it doesn’t have to be any more complex than that.

(Except it totally is.)

 

 

Admittedly, it’s not Colin’s finest moment.

He’s in the middle of sucking Che off and the other man quietly moans “fuck, love you,” and Colin rears back and replies, “Oh, shit.”

Che stares down at him with wide eyes and a blush burning his skin. “Uh, listen.” He looks as shocked as Colin feels, which is kind of gratifying and also terrifying.

Colin’s mouth is open, gobsmacked. Che’s cock is drooling precome on his bottom lip, still, and Colin licks his lips reflexively. Che groans and falls back against the bed in response. From his lower angle, Colin can see Che’s arms come up to presumably cover his face.

Colin leans back, takes a moment to consider his half-hard cock and Che’s own half-chub, and makes up his mind. He struggles to his feet, knees aching, and clambers into Che’s lap. It’s a glide of sweat-slick skin on skin and it’s almost distracting enough that Colin wonders if they could breeze by Che’s little admission and continue their plan of never talking about their feelings.

Che looks up at him, unimpressed and anxious at the same time, one eyebrow raised. “What.” Flat, deliberately devoid of emotion.

Colin knows they _have_ to talk about it now, and resists the urge to roll his eyes. “You say you love me while your dick is in my mouth and _you’re_ confused? How do you think I feel?”

Che looks away, sheepish. “Just forget it.”

Colin stares down at him. Che isn’t looking back at him. So, gently, Colin says, “Really? You want me to forget?”

Because he could, maybe. He likes what they have. Takeout and beers leading to lazy heavy petting on their couches; sharing a bottle of wine at dinner and playing the “your place or mine” game every other night. What they have is good, perfect, satisfying.

“It doesn’t gotta change anything,” Che amends, like he’s reading Colin’s mind. _Nothing has to change,_ Colin thinks, rolling the words around his mind thoughtfully. Che’s gaze finally slides back to Colin and the intensity of it pulls him from his thoughts. “S’just, a thing. Not a big deal.”

“Uh huh,” Colin says. He presses his palm in the center of Che’s chest and focuses on his heart thudding under his palm. Swallowing, he says, “What if I said I loved you too? Would that make it into a big deal?”

Che scoffs in disbelief, but his brain seems to catch up to Colin’s words quick.

“Wait, what?” He asks, sitting up abruptly and having to take Colin by the hips to keep from flinging him off the bed. His hands slip on Colin’s skin but hold him tight and warm and close.

Colin laughs. “I love you too, idiot.” He winds his arms around Che’s shoulders. Then, a little embarrassed, he adds, “I have for a while.”

Che blinks. “Why the fuck didn’t you say something sooner?”

“Why didn’t you?”

Che purses his lips. “Fair enough,” he says before hauling Colin closer and slamming their lips together. While Che holds him, they squirm to get comfortable on the bed, meaning Che’s head up at the pillows and Colin reaching for the lube all while they try to never break their kiss.

By the time Che is two fingers deep in Colin’s ass, they need to breath, lungs burning.

“Can’t believe we’re so stupid,” Colin says with a gasp. The kiss breaks with a wet sloppy sound that matches the intense fucking of Che’s fingers in Colin’s ass. It’s lewd and loud and sends a rolling shiver through Colin’s body, ending with his toes curling.

“Really?” Che asks, sounding distracted. “I absolutely can believe it.” He’s looking down at where Colin’s cock is bobbing between them while he works himself back against Che’s fingers.

It’s not the best angle. Che spread out on the bed and Colin pressed all against his front. But Che’s fingers are thick and long enough to get deep inside him, drive him fucking crazy, until he’s humping Che’s thigh like he’s going to die otherwise.

“Jesus,” Che breathes. He pulls his fingers out finally and Colin collapses against him with a whimper. “Could’ve been doing this for _years_.” Che takes him by the hips and Colin doesn’t have the energy to protest the lube-sticky hand clinging to his skin. Che rolls them over until Colin’s on the bed and Che is perched between his thighs. “This okay?”

Colin nods. Through heavy-lidded eyes, he watches Che slick up his cock; the other man takes his time, savoring the strokes as he takes in the sight of Colin’s body. A blush starts high on Colin’s cheeks and bleeds down his body. “Get on with it,” Colin urges, kneeing Che in the side. “Or take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Che raises an eyebrow, lips quirking. “Don’t tempt me like that, Jost. Dangerous words.”

Colin shivers at the thought of a picture of himself like this, fucked out and sweaty and flushed, on Che’s phone. For all that they’ve done, sexting is not one of them. Maybe it’s time to change that.

“You with me, Colin?” Che asks, his clean hand patting Colin’s hip.

Colin groans. “Please, _fuck_ me, already.” He hooks his legs around Che’s waist and uses the hold to tug him closer.

Che huffs out a laugh and nods. “Bossy,” he says like he didn’t already know.

He reaches between their bodies and holds Colin’s cheek aside to expose his wet hole, and then he’s guiding his cock in. It’s slow, steady. Wet and _loud_ , obscenely slick as Che rocks two inches in, an inch out, and two inches in again. The pattern repeats maddeningly until Che’s in to the hilt and Colin feels like all the air has been punched out of him.

“Fuck,” Colin gasps. Che’s not overly large but it’s almost like Colin can feel him in his throat, he’s so full. Che is thick and it spreads Colin wider than he’s used to. The burn is faint and perfect and Colin clenches around the stretch; he’s rewarded with Che jerking forward and driving his cock just a little deeper inside. “Fuck, yes, Che. C’mon.”

Che falls forward and presses his hands against the bed. He stares at Colin’s face for a moment, bends down like a push-up to press a tender kiss to Colin’s trembling lips, and then he starts to thrust. He rises back up for better leverage as he angles his hips out and drives his thrusts forward.

The bed shakes with the force of the brutally fast thrusts. Colin scrambles to get a hold somewhere around Che’s ribs, one hand ending up clawing at his back for traction. He can’t even think over the roar of pleasure through his body; he’s overwhelmed by it all. Che inside him, over him, _everywhere_.

Colin opens his eyes, unsure of when he closed them, to find Che staring down at him. Che’s panting with exertion, sweat beading on his forehead and dripping down.

“Fuck, Colin, look so good like this,” Che grits out. He bends one arm to press his elbow against the bed and reaches his other hand between their bodies. “Wanna see you come.”

Colin chokes on his moan as Che’s fingers curl around his cock. Colin throws his head back as his body becomes little more than a bundle of nerves. He’s split open by Che’s cock and cradled by Che’s hand and it’s all hot, hard, slick.

“C’mon,” Che urges. He peppers kisses over Colin’s bare chest, oddly tender in comparison to the ruthless way he strokes him off or pounds into him. “Wanna see you come.” At least his voice sounds wrecked, so Colin knows he’s not the only one being absolutely destroyed by this.

Colin whimpers, his hands still sliding over Che’s back. “Yeah, close,” he manages to get out in a voice that’s already hoarse.

Che, all the while having watched Colin’s cock in his hand, looks up and pins Colin with that same intense stare. He twists his hand on the upstroke at the same moment his cock grazes Colin’s prostate and it’s all over.

Colin goes tense and tight as he comes. His throat locks up and all he can do is gasp as pleasure rockets through his body. He tenses around Che and come spurts from his cock, spilling over Che’s fingers and onto his stomach.

“Fuck,” Che groans, something Colin only dimly hears over the roar of blood in his ears. His hand falls away from Colin’s dick to take him by the hip again instead. “Close,” Che parrots back as his thrusts move faster, shallower, Che taking the pleasure he wants from Colin’s spent body.

Colin nods. “Yeah, yes,” he says as his nails bite into Che’s shoulders. “Do it, Michael, want you to come.”

Che’s eyes squeeze shut as a final long, loud groan falls from his lips. His hips slam forward one last time and Colin shudders at the wet pulse of come inside him. Che’s hips sink out and thrust back, a slow, lazy, thoughtless motion as he rides out the last waves of his orgasm.

Then, he falls against Colin, effectively crushing him.

“Hey!” Colin squawks. “You’re heavy!”

Che rumbles with laughter. “Gimme a minute,” he says. He presses a kiss to Colin’s sternum like an afterthought. He slowly pulls out but doesn’t move from Colin’s chest except to look up at him again. “So,” he says.

“We’re still wet and sticky,” Colin points out.

“Don’t care. Pretty sure if I let you walk away right now, you’re gonna avoid this conversation.”

“And you wouldn’t?” Colin asks. He’s teasing, but he’s not ready for the way Che’s gaze narrows.

“I wouldn’t.” He sits up a bit. “I told you, man. I love you. Have for a while.”

“And I told you I love you too. What more is there to say?”

Che smirks. “Well, we gotta make an appointment with HR first. We gotta talk about shit like, being out.”

“The cast already knows.”

“I’m not talking about the cast, Jost.”

“I know.” Colin uses his arms around Che’s shoulders to pull the man closer. They turn as they go, until they’re both on their sides, close enough for their noses to brush. “That’s some pretty heavy post-coital talk.”

“Like I said, worried you might run for it.”

“I’m not some white midwestern suburban mom. I am capable of dealing with things.”

Che grins at him. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” Colin reaches out and tweaks Che’s nipple, none too gentle. “Can we at least have this discussion in the shower? I’m full of come and lube.”

Che’s laugh is a little weak this time, like he can’t get quite enough air. His gaze rakes down Colin’s body for a second. “Yeah, alright. Shower is good.”

“Thank god.” Colin rolls away and out of the bed. He gets as far as the threshold of his bedroom door before he realizes Che isn’t following. He stops and looks over his shoulder. “You coming?”

Che smiles at him, something more tender than his smirk but barely less smug. “Just admiring the view.”

Colin curses the blush that renews on his cheeks. “C’mon, asshole. I’m wet and sticky and it’s your fault.”

Che rolls out of bed and meets Colin at the door. “Yes sir,” he says with a mocking salute.

Colin shakes his head, fond. He reaches out and links his fingers with Che’s hand poised in the clumsy salute. He tugs Che along to the bathroom and they move around each other easily. Getting towels together, getting the water to the right temperature, slipping under the spray together.

As they rinse each other down, Colin can’t help but think about how comfortable this is.

“What’s got you grinning like that?” Che asks as he rinses the suds from his hands. He maneuvers Colin under the spray to get the shampoo out of his hair.

Colin can’t help his dopey smile. “You,” he says with a laugh. He leans out of the spray in time to catch Che rolling his eyes.

“Sap,” Che says accusingly.

Colin moves closer and winds his arms around Che’s shoulders. “Yep. You’re stuck with it now,” he says.

Che’s hands find his hips easily. After a moment, spent grinning, toothy and giddy, he says, “Good.”


End file.
